


Fox Ears and Wolf Claws

by myriadofnothing



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Anthropomorphic, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26977027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myriadofnothing/pseuds/myriadofnothing
Summary: Daryl is a fox-man who lives in an enchanted forest.  A ficlet.
Kudos: 2
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Fox Ears and Wolf Claws

**Author's Note:**

> No. 6—Please...

Once upon a time in an enchanted forest there was a young fox-man. His name was Daryl. He had a fox’s ears and a fox’s tail and little pointy fox teeth, though when he went hunting he didn’t use his teeth but his most precious possession: his crossbow. The forest was a dangerous place, even for a quick, sly fox with a crossbow. Dead men walked there. They were ravenously hungry and tireless. Wolf-men lived in the forest, too. They laid claim to the best hunting ground and the clearest streams, and everyone else had to make due with the lesser option, or else be very brave and sneaky (like Daryl was). 

One of the wolf-men was Shane. He wasn’t the alpha of his pack, but he was strong and mean, and he knew someone had been poaching on their land. Shane took it upon himself to find them and correct their misdeeds. Wolf-men aren’t keen trackers, but Shane was persistent. He searched his pack’s lands again and again, all the way out to the fringes, looking for the poacher. One day, he found a snare set by no one he knew. He tangled a fat rabbit in it and hid nearby.

That same day, Daryl went hunting in the forest. He went quietly, skirting around dead men walking. He guided branches after his passing so they wouldn’t _swish_. He tested his footfalls so he wouldn’t _crunch_ on any hidden twigs. He went quickly though, too, so nothing could sneak up behind him. When he saw squirrels, he shot them and strung them up on his belt. Finally, Daryl came to the vale where he’d set up his rabbit snare. All around him were curtains of twinkling, dancing birch leaves and delicate, curling fern fronds that grew as tall as his chest. Birdsong was muted there, its high notes lost among all the green. The vale was a perfect hiding place for rabbits, or for other things.

Even though Shane was waiting with his senses all alert, he didn’t notice the poacher until he was right there. One moment, there was nothing there but the living forest, and the next moment a gray fox-man snuck out from behind a veil of leaves. He had orange-gray fox ears and a gray-black fox tail, disheveled hair and disheveled clothes, and a crossbow. Shane held his breath and shrunk back so the poacher wouldn’t see him. He would have to close on him from behind, so the fox-man wouldn’t have a chance to use his crossbow.

A big, beautiful rabbit waited for Daryl in the snare. He slung his crossbow over his shoulder and crouched to cut it loose. Three squirrels and a rabbit before noon, he thought. A good hunt. Then, he heard something rushing up behind him. He turned to see the horrible mein of a wolf-man two steps away and about to leap. Daryl dropped the rabbit and bolted.

The wolf-man chased the fox-man through the forest. Shane was faster going straight, but Daryl was faster darting left and right. Dead men noticed the commotion. They shuffled toward the pair, mindlessly batting aside branches, some getting stuck in the brambles. Daryl lost his knife in one’s skull. The next he skirted around so close that Shane, who was right behind him, had to knock it down and kill it. That gave Daryl enough time to spin and ready his crossbow! Shane threw himself behind a tree, though, and the arrow thunked into the trunk. Another arrow was already in Daryl’s hand, ready to load, but two more dead men lumbered at him. He plunged it into the eye of one, lost it there, and the next one was so close he had to drop his crossbow and grapple with it.

Shane stood from behind the tree and watched. There wouldn’t be a poaching problem if the dead men killed the poacher, he thought. The fox-man wasn’t strong enough to fight hand to hand like that. He was losing ground, desperately shoving to keep the gnashing jaws away from himself. Shane would be disappointed though, if he didn’t get to punish the poacher himself.

Very quietly, so as not to attract the attention of the dead men, Shane said, “Need some help, you little shit? Ask nice and I might.”

The fox-man glanced toward him, then slipped on the forest moss down to one knee.

“Yes,” he said, strained.

“That ain’t very nice-like. Say please.”

Another dead man shambled by. It didn’t notice Shane standing still behind the tree, but went straight toward the struggling fox-man.

“Please,” Daryl gasped.

“I didn’t hear you.”

“Please help!”

Shane grinned and jogged forward, his claws out.


End file.
